


Riding Shotgun

by oisiflaneur



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Drugs, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4251840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisiflaneur/pseuds/oisiflaneur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Burners have been doing this -- "this" being smoking up together whenever one of the myriad of grateful gangs try to pay them in weed -- for long enough that there are Rules. Nobody wrote them down anywhere, but they've all figured them out. It's all pretty easy stuff; like Dutch always rolling because he takes to it like some sort of origami challenge, even if it means that they have to roll their eyes and give him constructive criticism. </p><p>So it's simple enough for everyone to remember the rules. There aren't <i>too</i> many, and they're all viewed as being relatively fair, but that doesn't stop a few of them from being contested.</p><p>Particularly number six, which is that only Mike is allowed to give shotguns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for motorkink, though honestly it's been so long that i don't even remember how the prompt was worded. i finally got off my butt to edit it for archiving for polyshipping day, because mike chilton kissing every burner is still my ultimate motorcity ship.
> 
>  **content warnings:** drug use, and that's actually about it for once!
> 
> my general writing tag is [here](http://oisiflaneur.tumblr.com/tagged/graywrites) for drabbles etc!

The Burners have been doing this -- "this" being smoking up together whenever one of the myriad of grateful gangs try to pay them in weed -- for long enough that there are Rules. Nobody wrote them down anywhere, but they've all figured them out. It's all pretty easy stuff; like Dutch always rolling because he takes to it like some sort of origami challenge, even if it means that they have to roll their eyes and give him constructive criticism. 

So it's simple enough for everyone to remember the rules. There aren't _too_ many, and they're all viewed as being relatively fair, but that doesn't stop a few of them from being contested.

Particularly number six, which is that only Mike is allowed to give shotguns. 

"You're gonna have to impart your ancient secret technique on us one day, mister." Julie mumbles, running her fingers through her hair with indolent fascination. She's folded up on the couch, her knees pressed up to her chest and her head propped up on her elbow. With the full five of them, it's only gone around enough for a few tokes each, but they don’t really do this that often, and she’s small enough that it’s already hitting her.

"And, just like the last time you said that, today is not that day." Mike grins down at her and places the joint in his mouth, backwards. It rests there -- held in place between his teeth and a fraction of an inch from burning his tongue -- as he leans down to press his mouth against hers. He has to plant a knee on the couch beside her, one hand on her shoulder and one on her hip. Lips parted, the breath passes from his lungs to hers, filtering through the spliff on the way. 

When she taps his jaw with a finger he pulls away, sucking fresh air back into his lungs and grinning like a maniac. _He might just be one_ , she thinks, as she tries not to cough.

"Alright, who's next? C'mon, now." Mike swings his leg back, giving him the momentum to spin on his heel. The circle of couches that makes up the common room (or the Lounge, as Texas insists on calling it) is littered with bodies in various states of _slouch_ , with arms hanging off of chairs and ankles propped up on tables and everyone involved slowly becoming more or less horizontal. Chuck raises his hand for attention from where he's stretched out, looking almost like he's trying not to pout. "And why not, huh, Mikey?"

"That sounds like a volunteer." Mike says teasingly, and strides over to him. Chuck scrambles partway upright, opening his mouth to protest Mike's obvious failure to answer his question. Mike takes advantage of that to breathe down his throat, too. Bent over him and trailing his fingers along his neck, Mike exhales with controlled certainty until he hears Chuck make a noise rather equivalent to "ghhk".

When he pulls back and out of reach, despite Chuck's grasping fingertips, he holds up the joint to squint at it with scrutiny. "Getting pretty short here. Next up?"

"Seriously, though, why not?" Dutch tilts his head at him curiously, echoing Chuck's question. 

Mike only shakes his head and chuckles, blowing the ash off the end of the smoke with a puff. "Because with great power comes great responsibility, Dutchman. You know why hits like this go straight to your head? I'm _physically bypassing_ your subconscious breathing mechanism to get more smoke down your throat. I don't want you guys messing around with that! Besides," he pauses for a long moment, having moved close enough to lace his fingers through Dutch's own when he presses them against the back of the couch. He doesn't need to hold Dutch steady, just keep breathing down his throat until he grunts a warning. When he's straightened his spine and plucked the joint from his teeth, he takes half a step back and plants a hand on his hip. "Besides, you have any idea how much a blister on your _tongue_ hurts? You guys are better off just leaving it to me."

Chuck makes a squeaking noise behind him, his hands flying to his mouth in horror and sympathy pain. Texas punches his own palm and snarls, though it loses some of the intimidating effect when he's flopped across the couch upsidedown, with his toes pointed at the ceiling and his forehead brushing the floor. "Texas could handle it. I bet it's not even that hot. _And_ I bet I breathe like, way better than you. I can hold my breath for five whole minutes before I pass out. You wanna know how I know that? Because--"

Mike has to kneel down to reach his level, but he pulls Texas' head up with his palms on either side of his face, pressing their lips together as he exhales. Texas only squirms indignantly for a second, before going limp and inhaling dutifully. 

When he gets to his feet, Mike squints at the roach again, tucked between his ring and pinky finger. "Anybody want one last hit?" He calls out, just in case.

The Burners answer him as one by groaning dazedly, though Julie trails off into giggling. 

Mike tightens his fist and presses his hand to his mouth, sucking air through the space between his thumb and the edge of his palm. When the roach burns down to the filter, he flicks it over his shoulder and straight into the ashtray without burning his knuckles, leaving a sharp arc of smoke trailing away from him for an instant before it disappates. The fact that he doesn't even look at where it lands is simply because he is Mike Chilton.

"You know," Chuck says, almost slurring through his lightheadedness, "If I didn't know any better, I'd almost say..."

"Almost say that you just like administering the medicine when the prescription calls for makin' out with us, man." Dutch snickers, meshing his fingers together over his stomach and leaning back into the couch cushions.

"Yeah!" chirps Julie, shaking her bangs out of her eyes. "Protecting us from tongue-burns doesn't have anywhere near as much to do with it as wanting a little lip action, does it?" She points at him, almost accusingly, but the smirk on her face is free of malice.

"Hey, man. This is Motorcity, and we still have our rights." Mike holds up his now-empty hands, and plops down onto a lone free chair with a wheeze. "So personally, I think I’m allowed to plead the fifth."

A long moment passes before Texas breaks the silence. "The fifth of what?" He mumbles, squinting up at the rest of the team, still flipped over. The sudden bursts of giggles that it causes are infectious and cyclical, and it takes the Burners nearly five minutes to calm down and start breathing properly again.


End file.
